


mellohi

by inuredaydream



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, Secret Santa, Slow Burn, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inuredaydream/pseuds/inuredaydream
Summary: why did tommy have to look at him with that woeful, exhausted look? why did tommy have to approach wilbur with a soft, tender whisper?
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/TommyInnit
Comments: 37
Kudos: 185





	mellohi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oakwoodplank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakwoodplank/gifts).



> some tombur dedicated to 0AKW00DPLANKS for secret santa!  
> hope you enjoy this little gift, and I hope I checked all the criteria that you like.

mellohi was a nostalgic tone. full of vibrato, it was a deep and entrancing tune with a hint of past memories. a devastating and long-forgotten nothing that it represented. 

tommy adored it, despite its wavering. the deep and hypnotic bassline with the gentle tap of a xylophone. the contrasting instruments. the combination of the depressing low bass to the gentleness, yet cryptic tap of a tune from a lighter instrument.

wilbur had no idea why tommy adored the disk so much. but over time, he found himself enjoying it. its comfortable tune became less terrifying and reminiscent of a forbidden something, and more like the tune that he would play while contemplating. looking up at the sky. eyes wondering about his ceiling. staring up at the popcorn-ceiling job. the pieces were only illuminated on the sides with his warm-colored lamp. making his ceiling look like a closed-in starry sky.

the dark blue of the ceiling contrasted with the orange. the light of something. it reminded him of lanterns, or perhaps some other light he can’t quite remember. it brings something out of him, an emotion from a long time ago, never once being resurfaced. his heart thumped in his chest to the beat, and his entire moved along with it.

his earbuds inside his ears, his curly brown hair covering them. he’s leaned back into his chair as he stares up. he wanted to stream in his home set-up, due to his office being taken, but now that he leaned back and put the on-hour version of mellohi on, he just relaxes into his chair. and his mind is lost in thought. a fog is glazed over his eyes as he drifts off into the neverland of some crevice of his brain.

this song reminded him of tommy, that was no lie. but it was brought to his attention just how much tommy’s demeanor would settle down with the aura of his disk was when they were doing a private survival world together. and they were just fucking around at night, with their armor and their maxed out weapons. they were fighting creepers and skeletons and one of the creepers happened to get shot by a skeleton right in front of wilbur’s eyes.

it dropped a familiar disk with a white and purple design to it. he eyed the disk, and just said some interesting hum before pocketing the disk. wilbur turned his avatar to see where tommy was, and he was yelping in their voice-call as he beat away an army of zombies with his axe. wilbur laughed and ran over to help tommy. 

wilbur remembered that once they were both done with their hunting session, and they sprinted back to their house. wilbur had called for tommy, and his avatar ran to wilbur’s. they looked at each other’s eyes, wilbur removing all but his elytra and his boots. he bowed to him in-game before he stated that he had found something, and to follow him.

tommy was obviously curious, and wanted wilbur to tell him that moment, but wilbur just guided him to the bench facing towards an empty sea. the sun was about to rise, and there was a jukebox there. he told tommy to just sit down.

reluctantly, he did.

and then wilbur pulled out the trinket, and put it in the appropriate slot inside of the jukebox, and tommy nearly yelped out in glee it seemed when he saw the label in his vision. exclaiming about how he got mellohi, and he wanted it because it was his favorite. wilbur told him to just settle down a lookout at the sunrise. so they did, tommy was quiet, and there was not a peep from his mic. they didn’t need to mute.

as the gentle start of the bells start to play, tommy only let out a gentle hum from his side of the call. wilbur was silent. but he could hear that tommy was humming along. the tune dissipating into a collective of interesting and beautiful sound. it reminded them both of the smp. and wilbur’s mind slipped, he’d recall. how he let his thoughts spill out into words to leak into the sky painted with purples, red, and orange.

as the final part of mellohi comes to a close, wilbur got close to his mic and mutters; “i miss days like these.”

tommy went quiet, and wilbur leaned back into his chair. they were both quiet in the sound of nothing. in the game, only a few animals could be heard and the flowing of water. this gentle silence for them was much appreciated. he could only bask in it’s comfort. and everyone who’s ever tried to separate the two. they were a force not to be reckoned with.

a powerful duo. the founders of l’manburg. and even though it was all fiction, it fueled their friendship to becoming the closest of a bond. 

tommy muttered out something back, something that he did not believe. it was let out in a gentle tone, caring and endearing. nothing quite like his normal tone. this tone had care, and love behind it. wilbur didn’t have to search for the double meaning.

“i love you.”

wilbur smiled in the call. and turned to his avatar in the game. wilbur’s voice dripped with brotherly love, and the calm and gentle care he had for tommy. he wouldn’t want it any other way. he smiles into his mic, his eyes scrunching up and his white teeth being shown to no one, he chuckles out and mutters. “i love you, too”

wilbur couldn’t see how this could get any more personal. tommy walks away for a moment to reinsert the disk, and then returns to his seat on the bench. looking away. he still wore his torn skin, from logstedshire. wilbur wanted to address it and tell him it was all okay. wilbur sometimes wished he was the writer again.

dream was always so cruel to tommy, and he had left due to the effects. it made him feel cold, and blue. just like his ghost. their characters weren’t real but their emotions were. and it stung like a bee and made them feel real. he felt so real, he sometimes felt like a ghost. he felt like he could fly. he sometimes wished he was one.

wilbur opened his eyes. he was back in reality. no more gentle minecraft sunsets, and faux-warmth. just his sweatshirt and the orange on his popcorn ceiling. just his mind, though the person he wanted to talk to was right there on the screen that displayed his discord dms. he could lean up and extend his arm to type out a message to tommy. but his ache, he felt paralyzed, and his brain was telling him that he could fix this pit in his stomach of loneliness by just  _ getting up.  _ but he can’t.

he’s exhausted.

he just wants to close his eyes and rest. it’s so late, it’s around 11 pm and he wants to wrap himself in the warmth of his blankets. to listen to lo-fi as he drifts away into an alternative world, phasing into a phantom of his conscious, except he can explore and be happier. he can twirl about a night world. the breeze of his fan hits his skin. and he leans back into his chair again and closes his eyes as he attempts to imagine what it’s like.

to be lying back. blunt inside of his mouth, baked away on marijuana as he twirls around a city of his unbaptized desire. he tries to imagine a cold city. his ghostly body flying across a scarlet sky. his body levitating far away from any responsibility of feeling. as he would fly through the cool. goosebumps forming on his arms and down his back, he would have to accept the harsh reality of whatever was there. and as much as he hated it; he wouldn’t forget. how passionately the moment was, mellohi. the song that tainted him. in a minecraft sunset. his heart thumping that he ignored. for what? the gentle voice of tommy, his eyes looking up at him. it was an emotion he had never seen before in those blue eyes. he knew it was different than anything the boy had ever presented before.

how could he predict so much in a minecraft avatar? the pixelated blue that represented the doorway to tommy’s soul. maybe wilbur was crazy, maybe he had lost his mind during that scene. and now nothing could save him. his mind spun a web of lies straight into his heart and bloodstream. and the saxophone that tempted him into comfort with the facts left him displeased, but not uncomfortable. maybe it was for the best that he left it all alone. he opened his eyes and let out a sound.

it wasn’t a cry. it was something more than that. a desperate plea. to the sky, the god above that surely hated him. he was the worst person that he had ever known, and he wanted to drown. his sexual desires. love, need, pride, whatever the  _ fuck  _ it was. he didn’t  _ care _ . he just… he couldn’t

he let out another cry. his eyes wobbly and his hands wrapping around his frame. trying to focus on the orange of his ceiling. perhaps, anything to get the thoughts that poisoned his morals. everything that he had developed over the years. school lessons, childhood pressure to not talk to people like him. now, he had become one of them. the type of people that get canceled online with no recovery. everything he felt. everything he wanted was so out of reach.

hot acid poured down his face. he didn’t want this. he closed his eyes and all he saw was tommy. but when he opened his eyes. the orange was so deformed in vision that it was only clumps of visual noise. he cried again. and this time, he wasn’t afraid to let go. he didn’t know what to do. the scent of their meetup. arcade games, smells of wine, and the stove light that illuminated tommy when he got up to get some ibuprofen, the orange color that basked tommy’s tired frame. a large t-shirt and his boxer shorts. hair ruffled into every direction. a disaster. wilbur didn’t look much better, sitting at the counter and wondering  _ why _ .

why did tommy have to look at him with that woeful, exhausted look? why did tommy have to approach wilbur with a whisper? explaining his intentions for grabbing the pills. why did tommy have to pull out the second barstool and sit next to wilbur? why did tommy have to ask him what he was doing? the tender night basking his skin. why did wilbur look at his small frame, drowning in the t-shirt for some german restaurant he let him have. not borrow,  _ have.  _ why did he let tommy scoot his stool closer to him, why did he allow tommy to rest his head onto wilbur’s shoulder in the dark midnight? the darkness hiding what they were doing. only the laptops light, displaying a google doc file of his next song lyrics, illuminating the boys. why did he allow  _ all of these events to happen.  _ and then whenever tommy muttered “i love you” into his neck, his small arms wrapping around the waist of wilbur through his baggy band t-shirt. he was pulled by his side into tommy, and he wouldn’t control it.

he ignored his morals that night. when he turned. he looked at tommy, god the  _ love  _ in his eyes. how gentle he was being. how everything and anything he was feeling made him feel so fuzzy. he wrapped his arms around tommy and let his headrest in the blonde locks of his messed-up hair. how he let one of his arms go up to tommy’s hair, and started to twiddle, fiddle with its softness. a clump of anxiety tightened his throat, and his stomach was left feeling swirly and sickly. but the words were on his tongue. would he dare say it back to the child? does he want this feeling?

does wilbur truly want to hold the responsibility of a mistake he can never revert? his mind was trying to fight itself. and morals were losing, his eyes opened, and looked down at the blonde’s hair. and he leaned back. and despite the voice in his head screaming at him not to touch him. don’t do  _ anything  _ he’d regret. but wilbur didn’t care, he didn’t give a fuck, he didn’t give a flying fuck anymore. he didn’t care about any of that. because what he wanted was nothing that the starts in his mind wanted. it was something else. he wanted to croak out. the same cry he’d let out just before delving into this fantasy. 

tommy’s eyes were so blue. they were like diamonds. watery, wet, and rough. a door to his soul was what they were. wilbur wanted to read him like a book. the same book that he had already read multiple times. he knew it cover-to-cover. every word, every pivotal moment. and the most important aspect was that he was there for all of it. he knew how tommy behaved, what set him off. what triggered him. what made him happy, sad, upset, furious, needy, wanted, and so much more. but there was always a chapter that was ripped out of the book, he could never read it. because he didn’t even know if it was there. chapter 1, the introductory. what tommy loved above all, the most important things. it was ripped out. with force, the remnants of the pages showing at the spine if you looked.

but this time, he could see that page of the book. the story of tommy’s life. wilbur could finally  _ see  _ it. and what he realized made his blood pressure rise. what he knew now was the most important thing he could’ve known. he exhales, and he starts to breathe heavily. wilbur didn’t know much about all about this chapter. but he knew that this was the most important, tommy’s hand came to caress wilbur’s cheek. and at that moment. the information transferred to his brain. one singular word of the most important things in tommy’s life was unveiled. and he couldn’t believe it.

the word was there and it was

“wilbur.”

and wilbur fell through a mirror, a portal of feeling. his toes went numb. his eyes swirled into a pool. and he was drowning. his heart thumped so brightly. the light of the computer was long gone and he was in deep midnight all around him. forbidden. he realized. his hand going numb, and he fell back onto the flooring and phased through the flooring. flying back out into the cold city that he had dreamed about. flying out a tinted window, through curtains, and into the sky. the moon out in all its golden glory. the phantom of his soul retreated the scene of love. not even daring to look back on what he did that night.

it was nothing explicit if that affirmed it at all. but that was not because it  _ didn’t  _ cross his mind. but instead, it was because of his need, his self-control, and his care for tommy was way too exceeding to ever violate tommy. not when wilbur was the most important person in the world to him. more than money, more than the sky, if he was stranded and all alone. he would only want him.

and right now, wilbur was stranded. and all he ever wanted was tommy. wrapped around his arms. a passionate kiss to his lips. so needy and desperate. yet so gentle and wanting. he wanted to protect him from the evils of others, yet he was the one that tommy needed to be protected from. but tommy wasn’t afraid. no.

he had tamed the beast months ago.

so that’s why wilbur was lost. because above everything that happened that night. what had happened that stuck to him like glue was the feeling. the feeling of warm, small hands around his thin waist. the fact that tommy caressed his face. but the thing that really warped his reality was that he was not the one that leaned into tommy. it was not him. it was tommy that leaned into him. having to stretch his body up, his lips gently brushed against wilbur’s. wilbur’s heart was so loud that he could barely manage to hear tommy whisper that he loved him so much. 

the piano that played an alluring small tune, combined with the saxophone that tempted him. it was a small jazz song. with the occasional tap of a cowbell. it was a tune that made his body turn into jelly. tommy’s the entire orchestra. and he was a good manipulator. because wilbur wouldn’t accept this normally. but yet he so, so did. he accepted it in his arms. coated in a blue tint of his windows computer. 

wilbur opened his eyes, the music of mellohi is lacking. he has to bring himself back into reality. his ghost-phantom, thing  _ whatever.  _ he blinks and sees he’s back at his home. orange popcorn ceiling in an even darker room.

he wonders how long he sat there, he finally faces his desk-set now, he scoots forward. and comfortably shuffles in his seat. his heart is thumping. and the whim of the moment. he had to talk to tommy. it’s important. not because of any specific problem. he’s just hoping tommy is awake. it’s crucial after thinking sessions like this that he talks out his pent up emotions.

except, of course, he won’t actually spill his true emotions. he will just lie, beat around the truth with a ten-foot pole. making sure nobody really sees the truth of his pent-up emotions. for the good of everyone around him. because god forbid anyone knew. like techno, or phil. he simply couldn’t live with himself if they were to find out that they even had the faintest idea about what he daydreamed about with tommy.

it was forbidden, and phil was very strict to shank any creeps that preyed on tommy. well, phil better start getting to work. because wilbur was about to do something he really regretted. it was a sudden purr inside of his heart. an ignite of an engine. it roared for him to hit the call button. his mouse hovered over the telephone symbol and as soon as his body told him to go for it. fuck everything else. there’s nothing that can be normal after that night. nothing can be misremembered. and everything tommy has done this that night months ago left wilbur on his toes.

he clicks the call button before any force of nature can stop him. he puts on his headphones, ruffling his hair. it’s so late, he wouldn’t be surprised if tommy didn’t pick up. but after a few moments of wilbur staring aimlessly into the dark screen of discord and tommy’s pulsating logo. it appears to be answered. and immediately there’s a rustle of fabric on tommy’s side. his icon achieving a green ring. wilbur stays silent.

“what the fuck-- it’s midnight, wilbur?” tommy muttered, and wilbur just spoke. before he could even restrain himself. “we need to talk.”

he could hear tommy inhale from his side, more rustle of fabric. he wants to assume that tommy was in bed. “...why?”

“you know why. please--” wilbur said, defeated. he muttered out. he had to cover his face in his hands. his hands rubbing his eyes. he sighed. a groggy, sleepy voice replied back to him. “i legitimately don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, wilbur.”

wilbur had to get close to the mic, his stomach bubbling and fluttering again. he made his voice come to a whisper. so secretive. “that night, the second night of our meetup tommy.”

he kept his hands in his eyes as he waited for no response. he sucked a breath in. and his internal desperation yelled for tommy to respond faster. to please, oh god  _ please tell him that the moment wasn’t a dream.  _ because it’s better off being a reality, where there’s clearly a problem between both of them. rather than the issue be made up in wilbur’s head. and he’s developed sensual feelings for no fucking reason.

and it isn’t helping that he had decided to call tommy in the middle of the night. the same hour of that moment. he eyes his clock, it hits 12:31am. and he whimpers, “please tell me i didn’t dream that.”

“you didn’t,” tommy muttered back.

and wilbur’s heart starts racing again. god, it wasn’t a dream, it was fucking  _ real. _ it’s forever there to haunt him and he can’t do anything about it, god. he second guesses. he quickly changes his mind and freaks out. he let him kiss him, and he liked it. god, wilbur fucking  _ loved  _ it. wilbur  _ loved  _ him. and he couldn’t even control it. he let out a groan. might as well try to fix the mistake he can’t make up for. “i’m sorry.”

“sorry for what?” tommy whispered. and god, the whisper. he wished tommy was right there next to him, hugging him all over again. he adjusts his sitting position to press himself into the cushion. he just wants to curl up into a fetal position and hideaway. he had to inhale and waited for the silence to break. “it isn’t your fault.”

“it is, though. god it  _ is,  _ tommy.” wilbur leaned forward. “you dont understand, you justdontgetit-- i  _ kissed _ you!” 

he muttered into a frenzy. “i’m supposed to _protect you!_ not to take advantage of you. you don’t really get it tommy, because i’m supposed to be _wilbur soot_ , the older brother, that looks after you, _keeps you safe!_ and i failed at that, i couldn’t even-- god i couldn’t even _do that._ i really kissed you and god-forbid _enjoyed_ it that night. and you didn’t even tell me to stop-- tommy, you’re _sixteen! you’re sixteen years old!_ and i _did that!_ i cant even _, tommy._ i just, im so **_disgusting_** _i----_ ”

“wilbur, cant you  _ shut up _ for a second.” tommy yelped out onto the call. “oh my  _ god. _ ”

wilbur listened to him. his heart rate is way too high for comfort. his eyes are already teary. and he was having to take deep breaths.

“wilbur, you didn’t take  _ advantage  _ of me, i kissed you by my choice.--”

“i still  _ let you  _ **_do_ ** _ it-- _ ”

“ **no,** it’s my time right now to talk, let me fucking finish-- i  _ kissed you _ . i hugged you, i wanted that. i  _ wanted  _ so much more, but i didn’t know-- i just i didn’t  _ know. _ ”

after a moment, wilbur offered. “didn’t know what…?”

tommy inhaled. “i didn’t know if… god fucking--  _ you know! _ ”

a second passes. “... y’know, if you  _ loved me.  _ at least in the way i  _ wanted  _ you too… but i was greedy! i was just being selfish, i  _ know  _ there’s someone else out there-- but it’s not me! and that’s okay! i just, i just wanted you to kiss me or...  _ something _ .”

it was dead silent. wilbur’s heart is beating so loud it’s like it echoed the room. “something more.”

wilbur dared himself. “ _ something more _ ?”

“i wanted to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, wilbur.”

“you--  _ no… _ ”

“ _ yes… _ i wanted to… do  _ so many things.  _ but i held myself back, for  _ you;  _ wilbur. because i love you.”

wilbur got dangerously close to the mic. common sense is thrown away, a purr enters his voice. “you shouldn’t have held back. i wanted you so bad.”

“you freeze me wilbur, do you know that?” tommy breathed out. “you make my thumbs, my toes go all fuzzy and numb. i can’t  _ move  _ when you do these things, i’m  _ paralyzed _ .”

wilbur breathed out again, his eyes wildly wide as he stared into the green ring of tommy’s discord, his hands gripping desperately against the edge of his desk. he leans in and mutters. “is that a good thing?”

“oh, it’s  _ astounding,  _ wilbur.”

he’s long gone. “tell me, tommy. tell me what… what you would do if i was there. if you could just-- re-do the moment.”

“why don’t i show you instead.”

there’s a shuffle of fabric. as wilbur’s eyes, impossibly wide to view discord, adjusts to the new change. he realizes. tommy’s webcam is now on. he was on mobile. the horizontal picture of tommy’s torso in the frame. wilbur was correct about his suspicion of him being in bed. his hair was pressed into a pillow. wildly messy and in every direction. tommy’s eyes looked straight at the phone. exhausted and wild.

he slightly smiled. “ever since i rewatched your cover of a song…  _ i am a familiar creek in your floorboards _ , i have been madly in love with you.”. he chuckles. “and i wanted to replace the wine you drink with love.”

“quit being weirdly poetic, that’s techno’s job.” wilbur giggles into the mic. “god, it’s been so  _ long  _ since i’ve sang that song.” he amuses.

“it’s been a long time waiting for… this.” he hesitates. his eyes averting to the side, but that just makes wilbur lean in even more and watch tommy with a wild look. “no-no... don’t-- don’t hesitate.  _ show me _ .”

tommy fumbles, and looks back at the camera with a toothy smile. the lamp on the side of his bed illuminating his skin. he slowly eyes the camera, and without breaking contact, he tilts the camera down to his waist. a hand teasingly grips at his waist, and rising. the shirt hiking up and bunching together as his hand pushed it up to reveal his chest. wilbur sucks in some air and whispers into the mic with vigor “ _ fuck… _ ”

“tell me… uh-- what you want me to  _ do  _ wilbur.” and wilbur is shot. his eyes deadset on the little bit of cleavage that shows. he knows that tommy isn’t wearing any shorts, just his boxers. which reveals more than what he should be allowed to see. he feels himself unraveling. he’s like a caged animal forced to watch his meal from afar, but not being able to grasp it. it irritates him. but at the same time. arouses him so much. a hand goes down to his own sweatpants and starts to rub. “i don’t know, tommy… i can’t  _ choose _ .”

the hand that rubs up his shirt eventually lifts it all the way to his neck. he can see tommy looking to the side a few times to check for his mother. which brought him back to reality, if only for a moment. that tommy was  _ still  _ sixteen. he was  _ still  _ living with his mum, afraid of anyone outside of himself finding out about his sexual display to a 23-year-old. but instead of that making wilbur feel regretful, or disgusted. he spread his legs and let his hand rub more against the exterior of these sweatpants. he grunts out, his face scrunching up. he’s sensitive again.

he watches with wide, brown eyes. he watches tommy reveal his nipples, red and perky. god, he wants to stretch over the screen and start to play with them. maybe tommy could make some noises. he wonders if he was vocal; if he squealed and squeaked over the slightest of touches. or if he was the type that was secluded; biting his lip and only letting a few groans slip out. wilbur wants to wrap his tongue around the soft buds and hold tommy, to prevent him from arching. swishing his tongue. and then pulling away to create a string of saliva between the bud and his tongue. 

“what are you thinkin’ about--” wilbur muttered, he palmed himself more. his eyes rolling back a few times as he leaned back in his chair and pulled it closer to his desk. his soft voice starting to drift away from the mic. tommy exhaled in a fumbled way. nervous. (they both were.)

“i’m just-- uh… thinkin’ about you here…” he squeezed his eyes shut, flushed pink on his cheeks. he continued. “i dunno, you…  _ touching  _ me, uh-- rubbing me… makin’ me feel good, i guess…” his eyes showed confusion. wilbur decided to help him out.

“well, showing me your dick would make me feel better.” a part of him felt sick. but he’s on autopilot. and this is what tommy wanted from him. and especially, what wilbur wanted. either he liked it or not.

“damn wilbur-- really just… uh-- laying the honesty there… haha…” he grinned, before biting his lip and letting the one hand that wasn’t controlling the camera go down to his boxer shorts. there was a noticeable bulge in the fabric. stretching it. tommy audibly whimpers. which makes wilbur go wild. his eyes spin in circles as he purrs out into the mic. he notices tommy visually flinch. and starts to pull the boxer shorts down. the camera tilting down, now his face completely out of frame. just his open nude body. 

“god…  _ fuck--  _ **_wilbur..._ ** ” tommy whines as the boxers were pulled down just enough, his erect shaft springs free of the refines and stands tall to flop on his stomach. tommy whines as he slips the boxers further down until he is fully free. his legs kicked off the fabric into somewhere off-camera. and then let his hand hover over the shaft. tommy seemed like he was waiting for something. a command or perhaps a word from wilbur.

he complies, either it's intentional or not. “you’re so  _ goddamn beautiful _ tommy…” he whispers into the mic. “do what  _ you  _ want to do, i’m not the type to boss around.” he sucks in more air as he takes off his own sweats and boxers. “it’s  _ your  _ night.”

as wilbur ghosts a hand over his erect dick, he leans over to a secluded drawer and grabs some lubricant--just enough to satisfy his aching erection. and slathers it all over the exterior. he groans at the contact. which made tommy stare straight at the camera, his hand still hesitant on touching himself. but his legs are spread out more. “what… are you  _ doing _ ?”

time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. “how about i show you?”

he angles his webcam down to his erect dick. his golden sweatshirt is still on. but hiked up just a slight bit, one leg propped on the armrest of his chair and the other on the floor. he knows there’s enough lighting to illuminate his body, so he goes ahead and hits the camera option of his discord screen and watches it load. he knows as soon as it's loaded for tommy, because the other turns pink and stares with a wild look straight at his screen. he mutters out “oh my god…”

“wilbur…” he finally, god fucking  _ finally  _ wraps his hand around the shaft of his own penis. he takes it off momentarily to spit in his hand; getting some type of lubricant. (which shocked wilbur even more, realizing this kid was too young to buy his  _ own  _ lubricant.) then, he finally wraps it around his shaft and eyes the camera as he tried to keep his in focus. letting his fingers softly tease at the tip of his shaft. rubbing at the slit. 

as much as wilbur wanted to soak in the moment, he was wild, feral and needy. and the reality of the situation is that this is a  _ sixteen-year-old.  _ and teenage hormones and a weak sex drive doesn’t allow for tommy to last long. so as soon as he’s adjusted, he doesn’t give time for himself to adjust to the touches, and immediately wraps his hands around his dick and gives it a good pump. he lets out a long, deep groan from the contact. just as tommy is softly biting his lip, trying to prevent sounds to seep out into his own world. where his parents could hear, where anyone could find out about this interaction.

“wilbur… can i--” he mewls, attempting to wrap his hand around his shaft. but still being too sensitive for the touch. he tries again. “god-- can i… take a screenshot. of your screen, god i  _ know  _ i shouldn’t, but i want it wilbur.”

“yes.  _ yes _ , go ahead, tommy go ahead.” he pumps his shaft again one more time before arching a bit. “ _ fuck-- _ ” he groaned out at the contact, maybe he was more sensitive than he thought. “send this to  _ anyone _ , and the second meetup  _ isn’t happening _ .” he threatened.”

tommy whimpered, before taking the hand that's covered in spit and pressed the home button and the power button. taking a screenshot of wilbur’s body, and his dick. he then takes the hand right back onto hsi shaft and starts to desperately pump into it. bucking up into it like an animal. desperately biting his lip on the camera. wilbur decided to lean forward and take his own snip of tommy’s body, his hand pumping his dick. the desperate mewling and the  _ want.  _ the takeaway was nothing. and he scurried for a folder to save the forbidden picture into. (literal  _ child pornography _ is now  **saved** onto his computer.)

wilbur then leaned back and went right back to work pumping his length. he groaned loudly, wiggling his hips desperately as he purred out hums of how much he  _ loved _ tommy. how much he was willing to do for the little blonde. he just wanted to lie there-- no. he wanted to  _ pin him down  _ to the bedding. the soft fabric of his comforter pushed down and his legs spread open. wilbur would shove his hand into tommy’s pants and watch as tommy’s back arched and he let out such beautiful sounds.

he never wanted to hurt the boy, as much as others would like to believe so. as much as  _ everything.  _ he didn’t know. his mind was in a scurry. he was scuffed and he was desperate for tommy. later, just like every time he would drink, he would regret these actions. just like how he would regret getting drunk when he threw up. he would regret touching tommy (abiet, virtually) like this later on. but right now? he didn’t care.

his hand pumped even harder around his shaft. he listened to tommy while letting out his own sounds. he almost forgot that he even had a brain. only sexually wanting more and more until he can’t take any more. he fucks his hand with vigor as tommy starts to get more riled up on his own camera. his hand only wrapped around and he’s bucking so cutely. out of control. his body doesn’t know how to respond to the excessive amount of pleasure. and  _ god knows  _ what tommy was thinking about right then. all he knew is that it was driving the little boy mad. and he trembled as he yelped. “wilbur--- wilbur…  _ wilburwilbur!! _ ” 

white painted tommy’s stomach, as he pumped himself through probably one of the hottest orgasms of his entire life. spreading out his delicious seed all over that thin body. the body that he wishes he could run his tongue up and suck up. bite it cutely and suck him off and make him his. he is all he’s wanted. wilbur started to approach the end of his own line. but in this song they both sing. they did not climax with a depressed sigh, disappointed in their choices. 

he could only begin to see the galaxy as a shock went up to his spine. he arched and came all over his goddamn sweatshirt. coating his hand, and shooting up to coat anything that was nearby. anything and everything was  _ everywhere  _ and it was willing to be coated in his seed. he almost wished-- he  _ wished  _ that tommy was there with his tongue out and a cocky grin to suck up all of his delicious seed. he heard the sound of tommy taking another screenshot. which made wilbur panic, yet disgusted, that he wanted more pictures.

wilbur relaxed back into his chair. and he had to shift back. his webcam still on as he huffed out deeply and roughed out some of the most intense breathing in his life. he felt like he’s ran a marathon. and he doesn’t even realize that tommy turned off his webcam and now it was just a black screen. wilbur decided to turn off his own webcam and relax. his leg fell onto the floor as he let his heartbeat get back into rhythm. he knew later he would regret everything that he just did. he would throw the picture of tommy’s body in his recycle bin and then burn it. but for now? all he was in was numb bliss. and he couldn’t be bothered to leave the call. it seemed that neither did tommy.

“when i tell you  _ i love you,  _ will you actually listen this time?”

wilbur can’t help but giggle at the return of his snappy attitude. “okay, okay… i love you tommy. more than anything.”

there’s a gentle silence, before tommy’s green ring is illuminated again. “me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> send any questions here if you want  
> https://curiouscat.qa/inuredaydreams


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